by Ian Rygiel | Oct 17, 2014 | Ian's Blog
Riding through Virginia, I had the creeping sensation we overestimated how many miles we could put down in a day. On the ride to Tennessee, I was sure of it. By our math, we’d be on the road for 9 hours before arriving in Nashville. At best we would have an hour and a half for breaks, gas, and food. Getting to our location on time was going to be a challenge. I’ve spent 9 hours in a car before. It can get uncomfortable, but you’re generally seated in a plush chair with all the amenities nearby: aircon, snacks, banter to pass the time, maybe even an audiobook. 9 hours on a stock motorcycle (that was not designed with this kind of trip in mind) is another story altogether. Legs cramp, hands turn into claws, and backs and shoulders scream. It was at this point that Jeremy and I began to develop increasingly elaborate ways to stretch out while riding. We crouched low, hugging our tanks, or sat tall to stretch weary backs. We rode one-handed, speeding up enough to coast on the clutch and give our throttle hands a break. I slid back on my seat, and back again, and back again to shift pressure points. Somewhere along the way, I developed a stretch I dubbed the “chicken leg.” I’ll spare a description of it, but I’m told it looked equal parts ridiculous and rude, though Jesse Boom sure got a kick out of it. The longer we rode, the less effective these stretches became until we finally gave in and stopped for the occasional break. This bit...
by Ian Rygiel | Oct 10, 2014 | Ian's Blog
Part 1 has been freed from the exclusive contributor’s content page. You can check it out here: Virginia: Part 1 I leave Luray Caverns energized. My mind sparks electric as we pull out of our second shoot. Lesson are learned. Adjustments made. We roll on. Hours of road lay ahead of us before we can rest. Virginia has thrown it all our way. Heat. Humidity. Hours of road. And now, rain. Our producer Lauren gets on coms to check in, her tone is audibly nervous. Unfamiliar roads wind and twist before us as we bomb down a Virginia mountainside. We alternately lean in, accelerate out, ride the clutch, and ease the breaks through beautifully treacherous country. The chaos of the day slides away, and I find a groove. The gorgeous landscapes of Virginia flow over, under and past us. Forward momentum heals all hurts and we’ve got our eyes set on the horizon. The rain eases, the road straightens out, and we hit the interstate. As light fades, so does the exhilaration of the day. Miles of road pour underneath, while we seem to stand still. Trucks approach, their prehistoric rumble a last minute warning before sucking the bikes into their airstream, only to push them out again. The sensation is unnerving, but it helps keep weary heads alert. Night is upon us and Jeremy and I ride side by side. At times we’re separated by a mere foot as we attempt to make the most of our headlights. He could easily pull ahead, but the light thrown by my bike is weaker, and he hangs back to ensure...
by Ian Rygiel | Oct 3, 2014 | Ian's Blog
tl;dr Check in on Thursday evenings for posts about the trip and the experiences we had. I’ve always found it odd that my urge to write seems to become more insistent as I grow busier. The less time I have, the more I want to sit and let my thoughts pour out through a pen or keyboard. Naturally, the inverse is also true. Having taken some time away from the project to unwind, debrief, and reflect, I feel I’m in the right place to relate some of the experiences and insights I’ve gained from the journey west and back again – of course this also coincides with my return to work; a job that takes up the majority of my physical and mental attention during the week. Despite all that, I’m planning on writing a post once per week and posting it Thursday night. Thinking back on all of the wonderful people, sights, and experiences I had for three glorious weeks will keep me sane. The self-imposed deadline – not so much. Hopefully, the stories I share will keep your interest as Lauren furiously edits away in her editing cave (or wherever that sort of thing happens) ...
by Ian Rygiel | Jul 2, 2014 | Contributor Content, Ian's Blog
7:00 am and we’re on the road. Dew-covered bikes glisten under a hot, humid sun. Thin, gnarled trees and sandpits gradually give way to lush forests and earth. We’re on the road for 30 minutes when I realize I’ve left all my over-shirts in Manahawkin; the first casualty of travel. Asphalt speeds underneath rubber tires for two hours while the humidity disappears and the sun climbs higher above the horizon. We stop at a welcome center just over the Delaware border fresh from soaking in one hell of a view from on high. After a stretch, we make awkward banter for the camera, fill our bellies and hit the road once more. The day grows hotter, and the traffic thickens as we near Baltimore. Semi-trucks box us in on all sides and spew black smoke, which fills our eyes and mouths, while settling in a haze around our boots. I’m hot and the day is growing hotter. My legs cramp, my wrist aches and sweat pours down my back. Jeremy and I shift our weight around on our bikes. We stretch while riding. We swear loudly into our coms. Our sanity is saved by a small two-lane highway on the other side of the Virginia border. Rounding a curve, trees disappear to reveal a gorgeous mountainside, green and lush. The aching joints and tense muscles linger, but the scenery becomes a welcome distraction. Cows! I yell. Goats! I point. More fat cows! My urban upbringing betrays me. We arrive at Luray Caverns 30 minutes late, and I want to hate the place. I’m in a rotten mood and out...
by Ian Rygiel | May 29, 2014 | Ian's Blog
I’ve always enjoyed sitting in dive bars. I’m not talking about the hipster-chic types, where yuppies can safely slum it, but the taverns, bars and pubs found in working towns across the country. The places with dark wood, stained even darker from years of cigarette smoke and contact from countless bodies. There’s a level of comfort I’ve found in these sacred places. No matter what town or state they’re in, they feel familiar. Populated by workers, regulars, and professional drinkers, these bars are the new campfire. Looking around at the introspective gazes of the patrons, it’s easy to find the ones who have lived their lives, experienced the world, and basked in success and failure alike. They’ve got story after story, and while they might seem as world weary as everyone else, their eyes are alive. The most common of these stories is the “if only…” tale. The lottery ticket that was almost a big win… The sport that could have led to a professional contract… The business that would have made millions… …if only… And if there is one thing I’ve learned from sitting in these bars, it’s there is no shame in the “if only…” story. The shame comes from only have one. After listening to these modern day bards wax poetic, it’s not long before I’m feeling restless again. Picking myself up, I’m ready to leave the stale air behind, venture out into the world, and continue writing my own story. This way, if the day ever comes when I’ve settled into just one bar in just one town, I’ll have a few of my own...
by Ian Rygiel | Apr 18, 2014 | Ian's Blog
As with my last blog post, I’d like to start by referencing a previously written article, if only to start the conversation “The Dark Side of Getting Into College,” written by Lauren Stiller Reikleen, takes a look at the colossal amount of pressure being placed on children to get into college. It should come to no one’s surprise that all of the practices, tutoring sessions, and extra-curricular activities are leading to highly stressed, anxious, and sleep-deprived kids. This is not a problem that ends with a student’s acceptance into college either. I would argue this upbringing is one of the biggest underlying factors the generation of 20-30-somethings, most affected by the Great Recession, are now coping with. When a large portion of someone’s life and identity is wrapped up in the concept of higher education, the result is two-fold: Certainly, it cultivates a generation of intellectually-minded individuals who appreciate art, culture and music, but it also breeds a generation that will find it harder to cope when they are unable to put their education to work — say, when an economy collapses in on itself due to greed and predatory lending practices. What we have now is a new class of citizen. This class has been shaped and molded to become the new bourgeois, but has found limited employment opportunities within this social class, and instead, works in traditionally lower class, proletariat occupations. The result is the creation of the poorgeoisie. And the poorgeois are just as hard-working, motivated and intellectually minded as they ever were — but now, many of us are also more stressed and anxiety-ridden...
